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  • New Translations
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  DOT... LETTER... WORD...

There's Another Way to Look at It

9/6/2019

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There’s another way to look
At it. The air does not envelop
Mt. Everest. Mt. Everest
Includes the air. Its paths develop,

The paths of sky and earth. And
The stories and the visions, they’re
For far below, for every man
With a paperback on the thoroughfare.

The dreams receive from the neurons, its
The neurons whose lights flash across
Nodes, and then the wind whips
The snow up to scrape and emboss,

Up from the lower flanks of the mountain,
Where the peach and cerise laundry flaps.
Wind and mountain, mountain and wind,
Never-ceasing turmoil, thunderclaps,

Echoes and blessings, churning earth
And raging mudslides, all of them speak,
These are the elemental giants
Drinking from the icy creek.

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Stories and Rules, Blood and Bones

9/5/2019

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Stories and rules, blood and bones,
Dreams of images unending
And relays of neurons, these pairs
Blending together, ascending and descending,

Sometimes one is the mother and the other
Is the son, and sometimes the other way
Around. (Oh how my dreams emerge
In the night from the roar of the ocean spray.)

The source of the tremendous river
Is the source of the banks, the oxbow lakes,
The waters give the land new rules,
The forest along the bank slakes

Its deepest need from the deepest
Waters, from the first bubble
From which the river courses, until
All the land, from wheat to rubble,

Align themselves, under the sun
And under the stars, until the land
Is so rich that the dreamer on
Its soil sees visions from Samarkand

To heaven. And sometimes the land itself,
Rises, the hills and their sediments,
So that they themselves are the river,
The dreams themselves and their wonderments.
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I Too, He Declared, Have Pain

9/1/2019

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(”I too” he declared “have pain. I too
Feel a twisted muscle, a creeping
Dissolution in my skull,
My honor wrecked, and I am sleeping

(”As my money is depleted, 
I look and see you in the other
Train, we’re running parallel
Your train is clean you do not smother

(”In cigarette smoke. But as for me,
My vision of the moon is blotted
Out, my own image in
The mirror flinches and is clotted.”)

(And since, since in a tenement
The faucet is rusted, the water will not
Run. Maybe you can know 
What that’s about, it seems such rot.)

(If I could borrow something from you,
Your eyeglasses, or your angle
Of the view, from here to
A boat where Arctic ice floes tangle

(In the water and the chill
Makes my bones wake up. The black
Rough mountains are softened with snow
And shall we paddle in the kayak?)
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